


Old Gods and the New

by Aerest



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerest/pseuds/Aerest
Summary: Going north.





	1. Prologue - The Seven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [december13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/december13/gifts).



> Every fanfic writer has a first story. This is mine.
> 
> ChiaraTippy, thank you for being the encouraging and patient beta you are, and for dealing with my stubbornness. Let's see where "Honestly? I have no idea how to make it work for the Valentine's thing." and the consequential developments will lead us!
> 
> Ellethom, thank you for your help with grammar, punctuation and all the things I didn't notice before.
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got.
> 
> Quinn and Mikki, thank you for creating the Valentine's Ficlet Fest that got me back into writing, and for having founded the amazing community of JBO.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome. I'm Aerest at JBO and on Tumblr.
> 
> (The Song of the Seven as well as the prayer towards the Crone aren't mine.)

Brienne entered the sept, taking in the scent of old, stale air and candle wax. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimness in the dilapidated, seven-cornered building. The sept’s state showed her more than anything else how far north they had already traveled. Soon they’d be completely on the Old Gods’ terrain.  
  
This thought didn’t make her feel as uncomfortable as she had imagined it would.  
  
The Seven had always been a part of her life, small prayers a natural occurrence in the everyday routines. But her life had changed. Her grasp on the world had changed. She had changed. Maybe it was time to let go of them.

 

* * *

  
She remembered the first time her father had taken her with him into a sept. She had been awestruck by the many walls, high windows and huge drawings of the Seven. At first she had stood in the middle of the tall room, turning around and around to see all of the gods, mouth gaping open, until she had felt dizzy, her movement and the place’s splendor equally responsible for that sensation.  
  
Then she had started to walk alongside the walls, one hand outreached to touch the stones, one hand pointed towards the center.  
  
Her step was solemn and she had hummed silently to herself, shaping the words of the old song the septa had taught her in her head:

  


_"The Father's face is stern and strong,_  
_he sits and judges right from wrong._  
_He weighs our lives, the short and long,_  
_and loves the little children._

_The Mother gives the gift of life,_  
_and watches over every wife._  
_Her gentle smile ends all strife,_  
_and she loves her little children._

_The Warrior stands before the foe,_  
_protecting us where e'er we go._  
_With sword and shield and spear and bow,_  
_he guards the little children._

_The Crone is very wise and old,_  
_and sees our fates as they unfold._  
_She lifts her lamp of shining gold_  
_to lead the little children._

_The Smith, he labors day and night,_  
_to put the world of men to right._  
_With hammer, plow, and fire bright,_  
_he builds for little children._

_The Maiden dances through the sky,_  
_she lives in every lover's sigh._  
_Her smiles teach the birds to fly,_  
_and gives dreams to little children."_

  


And then there had been the Stranger. The one without his own lines in the song. The one that had fascinated and scared her at the same time. The one that had held her family in such a tight grip.  
  
She had shuddered but hadn’t been able to keep her gaze from him.  
  
The last line of the song she hadn’t hummed. She had breathed in the words’ rhythm, her heart throbbing frantically.

  


_"The Seven Gods who made us all,_  
_are listening if we should call._  
_So close your eyes, you shall not fall,_  
_they see you, little children._  
_Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,_  
_they see you, little children."_

 

* * *

  
The sept Brienne was in now had only rugged charcoal paintings at the walls. It took her a moment to distinguish between the Crone and the Stranger. The irony of that didn’t get lost on her. She gave a half-smile and stepped closer towards the Maiden. The Maiden and the Warrior were the two opposites that defined her life, though she now realized that neither of them had ever fully embraced her. She turned around, facing the Mother and the Father. Justice and care. Brienne thought of her father whom she loved, who had granted her many freedoms, but who had also abandoned her to herself. Could she have been a proper maiden, a tamed lady if he had just shown more interest, more effort? If her mother, brother and sisters hadn’t died? If she had managed to make friends? If she had had the feeling that someone really cared about her, Brienne, not just about her name and heritage?  
  
If, if, if. This was no time for self-pity. Clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders she went over to the next wall.  
  
The Smith had always been a foreigner to her as much as the Mother. Brienne had forgotten most of the needlework she had learned as a girl, nowadays only using the most basic stitches to repair her clothes and equipment. This wasn’t due to lack of talent. Textile work simply had ceased to interest her as soon as she had accepted that she would never marry. All the other works associated with the Smith were men’s works which she had never been allowed to try. She would have liked to, back when Galladon had still been alive and she had been following him everywhere, doing what he did, admiring him endlessly.  
  
First her brother had died, then her hopes had fallen. And now, many years later, Brienne admitted to herself that she had lost her innocence, too. The world was a dark place and she had gotten to know it.  
  
She swallowed and turned to the Crone.   
"Guide me, wise lady. Show me the path I must walk, and do not let me stumble in the dark places that lie ahead" she whispered hoarsely. Despite the scent of wax in the air there were no candles to light, so Brienne ended her prayer by lowering her eyes and taking a step back from the Crone’s wall.  
  
Taking a deep breath she raised her head to the Maiden. She tried to find words. After a moment’s struggle she simply nodded at the drawing.  
  
It was easier to address the Warrior. "Give me strength, give me courage. Let me not falter in the face of danger nor death."  
  
Brienne stared at him for another moment, then turned abruptly to the Stranger, clenching her fists.  
"Please… Show mercy on those in need. If you need to take someone", she hesitated, then straightened her back and raised her chin up to meet his gaze, "let it be me." 


	2. Chapter 1 - The Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The Father's face is stern and strong,_   
>  _he sits and judges right from wrong._   
>  _He weighs our lives, the short and long,_   
>  _and loves the little children."_
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to CTippy, my encouraging, patient and insistent beta.
> 
> SeleneU, thank you for your quick and thorough help! 
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got. I'm no native and tend to mulishness.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are very welcome. I'm Aerest at JBO and on Tumblr.

  


"Jaime, leave her be!" she screamed in irritation.  
He was leaning against her precious mare, whom he had called "homely" once, and braided the mane. As best he could, which wasn’t good at all.

He smirked at her. "At least one of us shall look pretty once we arrive. Beauty rarely fails to attract hospitality, you know?"  
Brienne stopped in mid-stride, then caught herself and shrugged. "I wouldn’t. You and Honor are the beauties among us four, and your presence will bring more suspicion than actual hospitality as you should be very well aware of."

She proceeded towards their chosen sleeping abode for the night, and dropped down the firewood she had been collecting. Once free of the weight, she stretched her aching back and shoulders. Wood was getting harder to find in the North’s ever falling snow, but her body was exhausted and protested even the lightest extra burden. Not only her body. She was drained, her arm not fully healed yet, her mauled cheek an ubiquitous ache to both her body and mind.

"Make yourself useful! You’re one-handed, not dead!" she blurted out as she felt Jaime’s thoughtful gaze on her. Brienne realized what she had said when it was too late. They exchanged a quick glance, and Brienne’s face flushed in shame. Jaime only nodded and stepped away from the horse, starting to brush the snow aside and building a wall that would give them some protection against the wind and possible intruders.

"Jaime..." Brienne said apologetically, stepping closer to him, shoulders tensed and eyes desperate, not daring to touch him but needing to know that he understood, that he wasn’t angry, that they were alright, that … that he could forgive her.

When he looked up at her she could see the weariness in his eyes.  
"Brienne… Let’s not have this conversation every day. Please?"  
He rubbed his temples.  
"I live. You live. Pod will be alright. You did what you had to do."   
Sighing, he added "You’ll have to start the fire" and turned away, to fetch their packs from the horses.

  


* * *

  


Brienne lay rolled up on the ground. Her cloak was wound as tightly as possible around her, but she was shivering nonetheless. They wouldn’t be able to sleep outside for much longer. Their path led them further and further north, and winter was inexorably approaching.

Jaime had volunteered to take the first watch. He sat at the shrinking fire, motionlessly staring into the withering flames. Brienne forbade herself to wonder what he was thinking about, not wanting Cersei’s or Lady Stoneheart’s presence in her head, not wanting to consider that he might be thinking about her. About her betrayal. She took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away. They would sneak back into her mind anyway, every night in her sleep.

During the day Jaime was cheerful enough in his attempts to tease her and keep their spirits up. But as soon as he felt her attention turn away from him he slumped visibly, his face becoming unreadable.  
She couldn’t blame him.

Past and future were impending over both of them, the present a bleak follow-up of daily routines leading them further and further into imminent exhaustion, starvation, frostbite - and towards the war at the Wall.

Brienne had tried to talk him out of accompanying her, to make him return to King’s Landing, or Casterly Rock, or wherever the Lannister army might be stationed at, growing more and more desperate to make him understand the hopelessness of her task. Unlike her, he had a future he should grasp - but he had outright refused, eyes steely, teeth gritted, insisting that he was bound by his vows towards the Stark family as much as she was.

She had finally given in, anguish mingling with a weird sense of joy that they wouldn’t have to part again just yet.

A gust of icy wind let a chill creep down her spine, sending shivers through her body. Looking up at the stars she decided she could get up now as well as later. It wouldn’t be long until her watch began anyway, and if her restlessness provided Jaime with a little extra sleep it was better than her lying awake pointlessly.

  


* * *

  


Upon her return from the bushes to relieve her bladder, Brienne quietly sat next to Jaime. The remains of the fire warmed her knees as she held her half-frozen hands closer to the flames. Jaime’s presence tingled at her left, sending a different kind of warmth through her side. He was gazing up at the sky.

"My mother used to know all of the star’s tales." His voice was strained from looking up while speaking.  
"In the evenings she sometimes would sit with us, pointing at them, asking what we thought we saw. She’d laugh at our interpretations and finally tell us what they really were called. Those legends were our bedtime stories."

"Do you see the three brighter stars that build half a circle and the darker ones crossing them?" Brienne followed his gaze, trying to find the stars he spoke of. She finally nodded.  
"It could be the Bow. Or the Crown. Or the Crone, for that matter." Jaime laughed humorlessly.  
"I don’t remember anymore." He lowered his gaze, meeting Brienne’s eyes.  
"One day she was dead. And the stories ended."   
He paused for a moment, looking back up at the sky.

"That’s life: It can end at any time. There’s no safety. Not for anyone. You can try to fight that truth, but you won’t be able to escape it." More silently, he added: "I once thought I could. When I realized I couldn’t, I tried to prevent the worst. I failed at that too."  
He swallowed.

Brienne saw his gaze drop, shaking his head slowly.  
Her breath halted, uncertain what she should do, what she could say to console him. Hesitantly she laid her hand on his shoulder.

They sat like this for a moment, breathing silently. Then Jaime looked back up at her, his familiar smirk returned to his face.  
"I should simply live, don’t you think? Cherish what I’ve got."   
His change of mood took her by surprise. Confused she put her hand back into her lap, nodding at his words.  
"- And all I’ve got is you, wench."   
Brienne’s eyes widened in bewilderment as Jaime held her gaze. His smirk grew even wider, the corners of his eyes crinkled. He stood up, turning towards the empty sleeping space, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.  
"The watch is yours."

Brienne stood up and stared at his back, her brow furrowed. Eventually she sat down again, clasping her hands, trying to calm herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaime settle down on the ground, trying to gather as much warmth between his cloak and limbs as possible.  
"Wench, I feel your gaze", he rumbled.  
She winced, caught.  
"Tell me a story?"  
She stayed silent in an attempt to sort her racing thoughts.  
"Ah. Didn’t think so."   
Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone?

Silence stretched between them. Finally she heard him sigh.  
"Brienne, I meant what I said. Think less. Live for once. Don’t tear yourself up. They didn’t leave you a choice. Believe me or not, but I knew what I did when I followed you." With a yawn he added "You’re a terrible liar."


	3. Chapter 2 - The Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The Mother gives the gift of life,_   
>  _and watches over every wife._   
>  _Her gentle smile ends all strife,_   
>  _and she loves her little children."_
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your many encouraging comments! It's amazing to get such a lovely feedback! I try to in exchange update quick-ish, but considering my full work schedule I unfortunately can't promise anything.
> 
> I need to shout out to CTippy, the most amazing beta I could have wished for, and to SeleneU, who worked her way through my grammar, punctuation, vocabulary and other points that needed revision.
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got. I'm no native.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, very welcome.

 

"Wench!"  
"Wench!"  
Her vision still was somewhat black, but she could hear him approach nonetheless.  
She coughed, "Jai-..."  
It came out rougher than anticipated. She tried again: "Jaime."

"Brienne!" Footsteps approached. She tried to sit up, feeling her breath quicken, her vision nearly blackening again. Lights danced in her eyes, dizziness holding her tight. She somehow managed to get close to a sitting position, just to be hit by a wave of nausea.  
With a groan she collapsed, trying to hold in what little food she had gotten that morning.

"You’re alive!"  
There was audible relief in Jaime’s voice.  
"Not... sure." was all she managed to answer before darkness covered her and pulled her under.

 

* * *

 

Robbers! She had to-  
Brienne woke with a start, hurrying into a sitting position, trying to grab her sword, when the world turned and she fell.  
Pain hit her hard, someone was screaming, too loud, too close. Mercifully, she passed out once more.

 

* * *

 

Someone was breathing too loud, too rattling. She tried to ignore it but still awoke.

A sensation, a wet tickle on her lips. She licked it curiously. Water. She tried to gulp it down, just to be shaken by erratic coughs. With it came the realization of heat and pain. Her head, her throat, her chest, her arm, - she took in a deep breath, ignoring the pain, suppressing a cough, letting the air out hissing. More water, trickling slowly into her mouth as soon as her breathing had calmed down a little. This half swallow went down easier.

While the general sensation of pain ebbed away to the corners of her awareness, the one at her head and throat remained sharp. She tried to lift her right arm, the less hurting one, urging to find the source, to find she couldn’t move it.  
"Wh…" Shock made her eyes open.  
There was a blur. An approaching blur. Golden. Growing sharper as she blinked.  
"Jaime" she croaked.  
"Brienne."

He smiled, relief covering an air of weariness and caution in his expression.  
"Wh…" she tried again.  
"I had to bind you" he answered her unfinished question. "You flailed around. I couldn’t risk that."  
She nodded, just to be hit by a sharp edged pain. Her vision faded first, then her consciousness followed.

 

* * *

 

Jaime lay on the floor to her left, sleeping. He looked tired, the tension in his face and shoulders not leaving him even in sleep. She wondered what had happened in the past hours, days, - weeks...? - to explain his hightened state of exhaustion and unease. She let her gaze roam further. She was lying in a cave, bedded on her cloak - no, both of them, she suddenly realized. Jaime had settled down with only his clothes to protect him from the cold. Neither comfortable nor warm. She felt thankful for this care, despite her worries for his rest.

It took her some time to notice the near complete absence of pain in her head. Her pulse was calmer and she even was able to swallow. There was a constant stab of ache in her left lower rib, accompanying her breaths. Possibly broken. She slowly felt through the rest of her body. A throbbing wound at her left arm. Some tension at the left side of her torso, probably heavy bruises. Left leg and foot surprisingly well. Her right side appeared to be fine.

That left her with only one more thing to check. Her breath quickened in anticipation and fear. Carefully she moved her head. She was spared from the nausea that had hit her the last time she had moved, but the world started spinning again. And there was resistance at her neck. A bandage.

 

* * *

 

She tried to remember what had happened but only found a blank spot in her memory.  
With furrowed brow she started to look over her mind the way she had done with her body, checking on the important bits one by one. The result was laughable: If she had lost any memories other than how she came to be in her current condition she wasn’t aware of them.

  
She huffed in frustration, realizing her mistake too late: Her body protested the rough movement. Brienne’s throat was aflame; she coughed violently, sending tremors through her body up to her head. The world was dizzying up on her once more.

Brienne clung to consciousness as best as she could.

When the cough eased Jaime was at her side looking worried, a water skin in his hand.

 

* * *

 

"How…?" It was no more than a croak she managed to produce, but Jaime understood nonetheless.  
"It’s been four days. Surprisingly I miss the reliability of having your extra hands around. Can you believe that I had forgotten how frustrating eating could be? I might starve if you take too long to recover." he tried a smug grin, but it didn’t manage to wipe away the concern on his expression.

  
Brienne rolled her eyes, not trusting her body to show a bigger reaction at his words. Jaime smiled at that, tired eyes lifting slightly in spirit.

"How…?" she tried to voice her next question. Jaime balled his fists, his mouth growing tight. "I don’t know. I think you managed to kill them before you collapsed, but I found you like this. Your left side was slit open. You were lucky. A little deeper and…"

He clenched his jaw. "I am sorry, Brienne. I shouldn’t have left you out there by yourself."  
"It wasn’t your fault", she tried to say, but pain shot through her before she could even utter half the sentence. Instead she caught his gaze and grabbed his left hand that still clung to the now empty skin, and pressed it reassuringly.

"Brienne…" she couldn’t read his expression. He freed his hand and turned towards the fire. "I will get you broth."

 

* * *

 

A one-handed man feeding a woman who mustn’t move her head. It was a mess. Brienne would have laughed if she hadn’t been afraid of the subsequent pain. And if she hadn’t seen Jaime’s expression of endeavor and frustration. It was a slow process in any way. Filling the spoon with broth, letting it cool, bringing it to her lips, carefully tilting it, letting the liquid flow into her mouth. The struggles with her throat. Her growing insecurity about Jaime’s behavior. She had hardly ever seen him this focused and severe outside the battlefield.

She ignored the next spoonful above her mouth.  
"Jaime. Wha..?" She looked at him, questioning.

He stopped his movement just in time to not drip broth onto her lips. He met her eyes, hesitated, taking one, two breaths of pause, just looking at her. He then shrugged and shook his head. "Just get better."  
Raising his eyebrows mockingly he added: "Now be a good wench and open your mouth, will you?"  
Frowning and confused, Brienne obeyed. 


	4. Chapter 3 - The Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Warrior stands before the foe,_   
>  _protecting us where e'er we go._   
>  _With sword and shield and spear and bow,_   
>  _he guards the little children._
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you CTippy and SeleneU for your help and support!
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got. I'm no native.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, very welcome.

"Brienne, don't ask me to leave!"  
His words were more of a growl than a demand.

"Just because I am stuck here doesn't mean you need to stay as well."  
She took a deep breath, raised her eyes again, staring at him fiercely, not lowering her gaze this time.  
"Take Oathkeeper, find Arya and Sansa. If you don't care about your honor, then do it for mine."

Emerald fury met her eyes. "Where's the honor in leaving you here on your own, unable to hold a sword, hunt for meat, collect firewood? You stupid, stubborn wench! Leaving you would mean your death!"  
Jaime nearly spat the last words at her.

"Every day we spend in this cave doing nothing, waiting for my wounds to heal, is another day in which they might die! You swore an oath to Lady Catelyn, not to me! And I swore, as well. On my honor - and on my life! If letting you go is a way to keep my oath I will do so!"

She wouldn't give in. Not now. Not anymore. They had had this argument over and over since the moment the fog in her head had cleared and her sore throat had allowed her to speak.

"You did the same in King's Landing when you couldn't leave! You gave me Oathkeeper to fulfill the task. Now I give it back to you!"

She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be alone again. So she had accepted his refusal in each and every one of their conversations. But her father hadn't raised her to be selfish, nor a coward. She couldn’t tolerate these traits in herself. She would manage, somehow. As she had before.

 

* * *

 

Brienne was healing well, despite the imminent cold and lack of proper food. The long wound that reached from her neck to her left hip hadn’t caught infection, and Jaime’s stitches held - no matter how hideous they looked.

„I’m a one-handed knight, not some well-groomed lady“ he had shrugged off her sharp intake of breath when she had examined her body, modestly hidden in a far-off niche of the cave. He had refused to leave her alone while doing so, arguing that she was barely able to stand, let alone walk on her own. Him staying, but with his back to her, while she was hiding as best as she could, had been their compromise.  
„If I had shown more talent I’d have cross-stitched my name into you. Aren’t you lucky?“ he had added cheerfully.

Betraying his careless demeanor she had caught him sewing several times before and after that talk, watching his fight to thread the needle between his hand and his lips, finding him in different positions to steady the pieces he trained on with his stump, knees, feet, shoulders, undoing his work impatiently afterwards to not waste any material. He never seemed to be content with his speed of threading, with the evenness of his stitches.

Her concussion was gone. Her neck, however, still lacked some mobility, and she was careful to overwork it. The memory of her first days of consciousness, which she had spent retching up whatever had been in her body as soon as she moved, was still too fresh in her mind.

Imagining Jaime journey on without her was only another pain, adding to the numerous ones she already carried with her. They grew duller with every passing day. As would the new pain, too.

 

* * *

 

They had been staring at each other in growing tension when Jaime suddenly nodded and spoke, his mouth tight, his voice cold. „I'd say that my whereabouts aren't your decision to make. But - sure."  
He provokingly let his gaze wander over her body from top to bottom, making sure to pause at each place that was broken, injured, sprained, hurt, …

"Let’s spar for it. Prove to me that you will be able to defend yourself, to survive on your own in case you're attacked. Prove that I won't exchange your life for the Stark girls' if I leave you behind."

Brienne felt like crumbling under his eyes, under his words, but she couldn't give up now.  
She had sworn an oath to find and protect the girls. She was used to be on her own. It was her fate to be alone. She couldn't break that oath. She mustn't.

She scrambled to her feet slowly while holding his gaze. Jaime watched her attentively, but showed no reaction. Scowling down on him, Brienne put all her willpower into keeping a stable stance while freeing Oathkeeper of its sheath at her side. Taking an insecure step backwards to gain some distance, she stemmed the sword up into a vertical position one-handedly. Frowning, she placed her stiff left hand carefully at the pommel, trying to not put any weight on it, ignoring the wave of pain that shot through her barely healed left side nevertheless.

"I'm ready" Brienne exhaled through gritted teeth, focusing her gaze on the far side of the cave to defeat the dizziness trying to take hold of her. Her body was trembling from the effort of holding the posture.

Jaime's face was blank. "I changed my mind. I might just not be strong enough, wench. I'm one-handed, remember? And I can clearly see that you are well enough to keep up on your own."

Brienne closed her eyes for a moment.  
She was about to lose him.

She let Oathkeeper sink, sheathed it slowly, and concentrated on keeping her hands steady enough to unclasp the sword belt, while still feeling Jaime's eyes on her.

Straightening again she met his gaze, took a step towards him, and slowly extended her right hand, Oathkeeper in it.  
"Take it. It's yours."  
Her voice was firm.

He looked at her for a long time, then he reached out, grabbing her arm. "Brienne…"  
She shook her head. Freeing her arm, she pressed the sword into his hand.

"Goodbye, Ser Jaime."

Turning her back to Jaime she slowly limped to her sleeping place and collapsed onto it. Her heart raced in her chest. Her eyes were open, but she didn't see anything. From time to time she heard Jaime shift his sitting position.  
Neither of them spoke.

Finally, she fell asleep.

When she awoke he was gone.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Crone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Crone is very wise and old,_   
>  _and sees our fates as they unfold._   
>  _She lifts her lamp of shining gold_   
>  _to lead the little children._
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CTippy - you're the voice of reason as well as a safe haven for my sanity in this. Thank you!  
> SeleneU - thank you for being with us, your keen eye for grammar, repetitions, and all the other things that escape our eyes!
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got. I'm no native.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, very welcome.

 

Brienne was frustrated. Her body remembered the movements, but lacked speed and strength. Her wounds throbbed, the stiffness of her neck restricted her range of vision, her left arm had started trembling from weakness a while ago and not gotten better since. Sweat was trickling down her face, her cheeks were flushed, she felt feverish. She knew she should stop.  
But what did she have left to lose?

"My oaths. My honor. My life." she answered her own question, forcing her body through yet another routine of attacks, blocks and parries.  
"My father. Podrick."  
A stabbing sensation above her left breast made her bend forward, howling out in pain.  
"Jaime."  
But she had already lost him.

A red flower blossomed on her gambeson.  
She had gone too far.

Letting the sword he had left with her glide out of her hand, she carefully lowered herself to the ground, pressing her right palm onto the re-opened wound to stop the bleeding.  
With her left arm she hugged her knees.  
It hurt.

She felt small. Fragile. But she wasn't. She had never been. Not on the outside, at least.  
She was a woman, even a maiden, but no one would come to her rescue. Not this time.  
She had made sure of that.

She pulled his sword closer to her side, smearing its hilt with blood.  
If she wanted to live she would need to rescue herself.

Did she want to live? She had no answer to that question anymore.  
She was in pain.

He had left her a pile of wood, some herbs, a collection of edible roots, two rabbits and his sword.

Breathing flatly Brienne heated some water to clean the wound. She would need to collect new firewood soon. Despite having used the provisions sparingly they were shrinking nonetheless. If she was able to hunt successfully, without being attacked by anyone, she might have a chance to live.

 

* * *

 

Leaving the cave for the first time Brienne found barely concealed signs in the snow, scowling at Jaime's imprudence - what if anyone had seen and followed them? - but pursued them anyway, carefully, a hand at his sword's hilt. They ended not far from the cave in front of a tight pile of snow, covered by branches. Listening attentively to hear approaching footsteps in time, Brienne carried the wood into the cave, then carefully poked in the snow. She found more rabbits and roots, not putrid, frozen from the cold and snow.

Sadness and relief flooded her. Jaime had made sure that she would have time to heal, even in his absence.

He wanted her to have a chance. He believed in her ability to survive. He hadn't given up on her.

Gazing up into the nightly sky, discovering the constellation he had once shown her, she swore another oath. To herself.

 

* * *

 

Her days consisted of physical exercises and routines. Jogging. Stretching. Strength training. Fencing.  
Whenever she felt her pulse too quickly in her veins she took a break.  
Whenever she felt her thoughts too painfully in her heart she continued.

The fever which her reckless training had brought back finally left her.

Brienne started wondering how much longer she'd need to stay in order to have a chance at survival in the world outside of the cave.  
She had been trapped in here so long that her previous life started to feel distant, surreal.

 

* * *

 

She awoke with a start. Quickly she grabbed his sword and stood up silently, missing the reassuring weight and safety of her armor, which had long been lost with the Brotherhood. Her gambeson kept her warm, but she had learned already that it lacked the means to protect her properly. Its left side, having been cut in two, was roughly sewn back together, but offered even less protection than it had before.  
Her only advantage was that the padded material allowed her to move nearly silently.

Apparently she'd learn whether she was already strong enough to survive a battle quicker than anticipated. She just wished she wasn't alone.

She hid in one of the niches. The burnt down fire's glimmer would give her presence away in case that someone entered the cave, but there'd still be the moment of surprise on her side.

She heard several muffled steps, the whinnying of horses. A thump. Silence. Approaching steps, only two feet.

Brienne felt goosebumps race over her skin. She raised his sword, but she knew those steps.  
It couldn't be.

Could it?

"Wench, don't kill me, please." she heard an all too familiar voice whisper hoarsely.

Brienne's breath was knocked away, she felt thunderstruck.

Silence.

"Brienne?" she heard him ask, his tone hesitant.

"J… Jaime?" she stuttered, her heart beating loud enough to bring the cave's walls down.

She heard him exhale loudly. "So you are still alive, after all…"

"Jaime." Brienne stood frozen in her niche, unable to form a clear sentence, unable to move, while her stomach, heart and mind were in turmoil.

He stepped closer, until she could guess his features in the near complete darkness of the dying fire, its last glow reflecting in his eyes. He swallowed. "Brienne."


	6. Chapter 5 - The Smith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Smith, he labors day and night,_   
>  _to put the world of men to right._   
>  _With hammer, plow, and fire bright,_   
>  _he builds for little children._
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, a heartfelt shout out to the amazing women at my side:   
> CTippy - you're the voice of reason as well as a safe haven for my sanity in this. Thank you!  
> SeleneU - thank you for being with us, your keen eye for grammar, repetitions, and all the other things that escape our eyes!
> 
> I claim any and all mistakes that I managed to create despite all the help I got. I'm no native.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, very welcome.

 

"Jaime!"

Brienne was too startled to keep her voice low. She quickly jumped down her horse's back, ran the distance to him and kneeled down at his side, grabbing his shoulder, digging her fingers into the cloth of his gambeson.  
"Jaime!"

His horse was standing close to him, nibbling brown leaves from a tree branch. Brienne thanked the gods it hadn't stepped on him.

Jaime groaned, took her arm and lifted it from his shoulder, catching her eyes before quickly looking away.   
"We need to rest."  
He stood up, brushing snow off his clothes.

"This place is as good or bad as any other. I tested the ground, it's nice to lie on. There's even some shrubbery to hide us."

Still avoiding her gaze he walked towards his horse, took it by its reins, and tied it to the tree.

Brienne frowned.  
"What's wrong with you?"

"I'm fine."  
He turned towards her, his smile was wan, his eyes tired.  
Brienne gritted her teeth, looking at him, waiting.   
He sighed.  
"I am. I just need some sleep", he replied with a shrug.

Brienne regarded him attentively and, for the first time since his return, noticed the state he was in. His clothes spotted new stains and holes, his shoulders were slumped, his lips thin in tension, dark lines circled his eyes and his hair looked as if it had seen neither comb nor water since he had left.   
Recognition dawned on her that this might very well be true. They hadn't talked about their time apart, and after their first greeting hardly exchanged glances. Driven by the restlessness Jaime radiated they had quickly packed and left the cave, using the darkness of the night to cover as much ground as possible.   
Jaime's fall had brought them their first break, and he looked as if he wouldn't manage another minute on his feet.  
Brienne wondered when had been the last time he had slept.

She nodded. "I'll take the first watch."

 

* * *

 

Jaime had brought furs, but she saw him shiver nonetheless. It was hard to tell whether he slept or lay awake.

Sitting quietly to hear possible passersbys, Brienne too felt the cold creep through her body. Her toes had gone numb a while ago, her nose was running, her shoulders were cramping from her crouching position, trying to keep the warmth in.

He had been right about the shrubbery hiding them, but it was still too dangerous to light a fire. Its shine would be visible even miles away, and neither of them was in the right state to fight.

She heard Jaime sniff, then clear his throat.  
"Brienne?"  
"Yes, Jaime?"  
"I…" he started, then there was silence. A sigh. "Brienne, I'd rather not die from the cold. Would you…" he hesitated again. "Would you mind…"  
He laughed hoarsely. "Damnit, wench, I'm afraid we need to snuggle to get some warmth."  
Brienne could feel herself blush. When she kept silent he added "I promise I won't soil your honor".

"I wouldn't think you to…" Brienne mumbled, blushing even more.

"Good."

Silence stretched between them.   
Brienne's thoughts chased each other's tails, too quick to be caught.

"Brienne?"  
She winced, being thrown back into reality.

She could feel his eyes on her. Self-consciously she stood up, her tense muscles protesting the movement.   
She walked over to him stiffly.

She could do this.   
He was right. They needed to preserve as much of their body warmth as they could, and this was the only sensible option. Any other travelers being in a situation like theirs would do this.

Brienne stared at the ground intently, hearing him shift to make space for her.  
Slowly she hunkered down, went into a sitting position, stretched her legs and finally lowered her back to the ground, staring into the sky. The world started to spin.

Jaime lay on his side, resting his upper body on his elbow, looking at her.

"Roll onto your side."

His voice was soft, patient. There was no reason to not do what he had said. Brienne trusted him. Of course she did.   
Taking a deep breath, she changed her position.

Her heart was racing. He moved closer, finally touching her whole back with his body. He pulled the furs over them and rested his arm over her waist.

Brienne concentrated on breathing, while her body not only felt warm, but pulsing hot.   
Inhaling, exhaling. Unconsciously adjusting her rhythm to his.  
She needed to concentrate. It was her watch, after all. If only the noise her heart produced would lessen, so she could properly listen to their surroundings again.  
Inhaling, exhaling.  
In the dark of the night listening was her only chance. And focusing. She needed to focus. On movements. On sounds.   
Inhaling, exhaling.  
She couldn't hear Jaime breathe, but she felt him. His chest heaving and sinking at her back. His muscles twitching in his sleep.   
Inhaling, exhaling.  
It was peaceful, lying there with him. Gradually, Brienne relaxed. Her muscles uncramped. Her heartbeat slowed down. She felt comfortably warm.  
Inhaling, exhaling.  
Her eyelids fluttered shut.


	7. Chapter 6 - The Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Maiden dances through the sky,_   
>  _she lives in every lover's sigh._   
>  _Her smiles teach the birds to fly,_   
>  _and gives dreams to little children._
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CTippy, you're my hero!  
> SeleneU, thank you so much for being with us.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Between CTippy and SeleneU I need to fight hard to maintain them ;-)
> 
> All concrit and comments are loved and appreciated.

 

"Brienne!"

Brienne felt movement. She opened her eyes, finding herself face-to-face with Jaime.   
His eyes. She had never seen them that close. Emerald, but containing a warmth like soft moss on a summer's day, inviting, caring.   
The pupils grew bigger, the green darkened, Jaime's expression changed.

He exhaled, swallowed, closed his eyes.

Brienne's stomach lurched, her head kicked back into action, she froze in horror.

"You're lying on my arm."   
Jaime's tone was matter-of-factly, but his voice was rough.

Brienne jumped up, hastily made some steps backwards, stumbled, barely contained her balance.   
"Th… The watch! I… I fell asleep! I shouldn't! I… the horses!"   
She fled.

The horses stood where they had left them hours ago. Brienne leaned against hers, burying her face in its mane, breathing its scent, trying to calm down.

She had slept through her watch! This could have been their end. Carelessness meant death. And she had not only risked her own life, but also Jaime's.

Jaime.

Her heart raced, despite her standing still. Her stomach felt queasy.   
Brienne was sure to not have eaten anything bad. She hadn't been sick since her brother had passed away.   
She straightened, taking some deep breaths. They had a task to fulfill, an oath to keep. They had already been delayed enough. There was no time for this.

She turned. Jaime was working with his back to her, using branches to brush away the signs of their presence in the snow. It was a familiar sight, after all the time they had been traveling together. But it felt different this morning. Brienne frowned, touching his sword's hilt for comfort. Something had changed.

 

* * *

 

They rode in silence.   
Brienne glanced at Jaime from the corner of her eyes. His gaze was set on the path, his face unreadable. She tried to focus. After the previous night's mistake it was a miracle they were still alive. She needed to pay attention now.

Brienne sensed movement from Jaime's direction, but when she turned nothing had changed in his posture. She concentrated on their surroundings once more.

Her thoughts wandered to Jaime and her eyes followed, unconsciously. When she saw him shift she quickly turned her head, observing trees and shrubbery for possible dangers.

"Brienne?"  
Hearing his voice came as a surprise.  
She twitched, causing her horse to jump sideways into a tree, bruising her leg. Her shoulder banged against the tree trunk.  
A wave of pain shot through her. Bending forwards she exhaled through gritted teeth, trying to keep control of her body as well as her horse.   
"Brienne!"   
Jaime was at her side, holding both their horses' reins, offering his stump as a support.  
"Slide down, I will catch you."

"I. Can. Ride!"   
Brienne forced out the words.

Jaime stared at her in disbelief.  
"Reins!" Brienne demanded.

Jaime swore under his breath, but losened his grip and begrudgingly remounted his horse.

They rode slowly.   
Jaime kept staring at her in dissatisfaction, but didn't say anything.

Brienne felt every misstep, every time her horse stumbled, but the pain slowly ebbed away and she could finally sit straight again. She carefully moved her fingers, rotated her wrist, bent her elbow, rolled her shoulder.

She had slept through her watch and instead curled up in Jaime's arms like a fragile damsel.   
She mustn't… She mustn't think of him that way.   
She was no lady. She wouldn't ever be.   
She was a warrior.

 

* * *

 

Brienne had ignored Jaime's first attempt to have them rest. She had seen him glance at her arm. Clenching her teeth she had taken her horse's reins into both hands again. She had spent more than enough time recovering already.  
  
Hours later she had difficulties feeling the leather's sensation in her left hand. She sat slumped in the saddle, her horse following Jaime's agreeably, and if someone was to attack them - she would fall to their feet.  
She couldn't delay resting any longer, no matter how much the prospect scared her.

"Jaime?" she called out.   
He turned, looking exhausted but alert. Seeing her expression he nodded. "Finally!"

It took them some time to find a suitable place. By then all Brienne was able to do anymore was brush aside the snow and spread her cloak on the ground.

"Your watch" she mumbled while lying down, hoping she would fall asleep quicker than it'd take him to settle down.

On the contrary, all of her senses suddenly appeared to be twice as alert. She heard him walk to and fro, tie and unsaddle the horses, eat. There was silence. Just when it had lasted long enough for her to feel restless, wanting to check what he was doing, she heard rustling of clothes, and steps approaching her.

She kept her eyes closed, willing her breath into a slow, regular rhythm, despite her racing heart. She felt the urge to swallow, but her mouth was dry.

The steps stopped, Jaime stood still. Brienne's skin prickled. He sighed. Laid down. Shifted until their bodies touched. Came even closer. Lifted the furs to cover both of them. Slung his arm over her hip. Pressed his face into her neck. Inhaled. Exhaled. The warm air provoked goosebumps on Brienne's skin. She forgot to breathe.

"Brienne." he whispered.  
She exhaled, slowly turning to look him in the face, her body a mess of tense muscles.  
Moving, she felt something hard at her thigh.   
"Jaime?"

He avoided her gaze and rolled to his other side.  
"I'm … Sorry. I didn't want to …" he paused, swallowed, "… wake you."

Brienne looked at his back, puzzled.   
His movement had taken the furs from her. She shivered.  
Taking her courage in both hands she fully turned, fitting herself to him. Her breasts at his shoulder blades. Bottom to hip. Her thighs at his. Her arm… over his waist. Touching his belly with her hand. Her nose… in his neck.  
She remembered the sensation his breath had left on her skin and tried to exhale flatly. His smell surrounded her.  
Listening to her pulse's rhythm she wondered whether she'd ever be able to find sleep again.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the huge delay. 
> 
> As always, I want to thank CTippy for being the anchor of my sanity as well as the voice of reason.   
> SeleneU unfortunately is currently swamped with work - I am no native, there will be mistakes. I hope to get rid of them in a later edit. 
> 
> This is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue, which is nearly done by now. 
> 
> All concrit and comments are loved and appreciated.

 

Brienne let her horse follow Jaime's, lost too deply in her thoughts to pay attention to their surroundings, when she suddenly realized they had come to a halt.

"Why…" she started to ask, then saw it herself.  
The Wall.  
Dividing earth from sky majestically.  
"It's … impressive" she whispered, lacking words to describe the impact the ancient construction had on her.

"You have never seen it before?"   
"No", she replied, unable to remove her eyes from the endless expanse of ice stretching in front of them.  
It was easy to understand how the northerners could think it to hold magical powers.  
"Me neither."  
Jaime's tone made her look at him.  
He was still facing the Wall. His lips tightened.  
"Do you think we will ever be able to see something different again?"

Her stomach clamped.  
"I…" Brienne's voice trailed off. She didn't know what to say. He was probably right.   
"No", she gave the only possible honest answer.

Their eyes met, until Brienne couldn't hold the tension anymore.  
She didn't want to think about the future. Not now.  
She nudged her horse back into movement.

"Wait!"  
Jaime didn't raise his voice, but he spoke emphatically.  
"Whatever is up there… It will wait another day. Let's stay here for the night."  
After a moment, seeing her doubt, he added: "Please".

Brienne hesitated. It was hard to guess distances because of the snow. It would take them one, maybe up to three more days to reach their destination.   
She wasn't prepared for their journey together to end yet. Since they had started sleeping close to each other something had changed in their relationship. Talk didn't come easy to them anymore - if it ever had.  
They avoided each other's gazes as well as they could, though they spent huge parts of their days looking at the other.   
The atmosphere could have been awkward, but it was not. They were comfortable around each other, though they were not.

One, maybe three more days together, on their path towards certain death.   
Against better knowledge Brienne nodded. "Let's find a suitable place to rest."

 

* * *

 

The routine of setting up camp had become a familiar dance over the course of their journey. As if they had traveled together all their lives. As if they would continue traveling together forever.   
Just that death would come sooner than anticipated.

They had managed to find a grove, overgrown enough to allow them to light the first fire in days.   
"This might as well be a dream", Jaime had joked. "Pinch me, maybe I'm still asleep?"

Having a fire would make it possible to sleep separately again, if they lay close enough to it. However, when Jaime prepared only one space Brienne didn't object.

They could still see the Wall through the branches of the trees.

"Here we are, about to risk our lives for honor and oaths. Tell me, Brienne: Is this what you dreamt of when you were a little girl? Training swordsplay to one day heroically rescue maidens from grumkins and snarks, and all the other horrors out there?"   
Jaime chuckled drily.   
"I did…"

Brienne kept her gaze on the Wall.  
"No. I didn't."  
She could sense Jaime looking at her and swallowed.  
She would die soon anyway. Why not tell him.

"I was a naive child. I am my father's only living heir, to be married to some lord, the future Lord of Tarth. I imagined him to be like the knights in the songs. Honorable. Beautiful. Courteous."  
Her naivete still hurt, after all these years.  
"I learned to sew, to dance, to play the harp. Marrying me meant getting Tarth. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough to make up for my looks."

Brienne heard Jaime catch his breath.   
She gritted her teeth.  
"You're allowed to laugh. I know better now. I learned."

Jaime turned to her, brows furrowed. "Why should I laugh?"

Brienne huffed. "Look at me!"

"I do. And I see nothing laughable."

Jaime's tone, his expression sent goosebumps racing over her skin.   
He leaned closer, lifting his hand, but stopped in mid-air and quickly stood up.

"It's late, and we should get some sleep. I'll take the first watch."

 

* * *

 

Brienne lay on her cloak, curled together against the cold. She was facing the fire, watching the flames eating their way through the branches, dancing, licking, toying. Devouring everything they could find, until only ashes would remain.

Brienne didn't know when she had last been able to catch a clear thought. Her thoughts as well as her emotions were in constant turmoil. Circling around one topic - one man - constantly.  
She hadn't ever felt that way. Not in her heart. Not with her body.   
Her body was what confused her the most.

 

* * *

 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, heard her name be spoken. When she opened her eyes she saw Jaime looking down on her.  
"Brienne." He hesitated, removed his hand, stepped away to give her space. "Your watch."

Brienne realized that he hadn't joined her this night.

 

* * *

 

Jaime lay down wordlessly, while Brienne got up. She suppressed a shiver. The fire was burning lower than before.   
She went to relieve herself, then crouched close to the flames and warmed her hands. She glanced over to Jaime. He lay in the same position she had chosen as well. The position they had shared throughout the last nights.   
His body pressed close to hers, his breath on her skin, - the sensations were uncomfortably palpable to her mind.  
She sighed. Jaime opened his eyes.

They looked at each other in silence. Finally Jaime lifted the furs. "Come."  
A wave of heat rushed through Brienne, while she felt frozen in place. "But… The watch…" she stuttered.  
"Don't fall asleep."  
Jaime's voice wasn't more than a whisper.

Unable to speak Brienne nodded slowly. Not trusting her feet she carefully got up and walked over to Jaime.  
"Come", he repeated.  
She trembled.  
He offered her his hand and she took it, sitting down clumsily until they faced each other.  
"Jaime…"   
Brienne didn't know how to continue that sentence, or what she even had intended to say.  
Neither of them had let go of the other's hand.  
Her heart was racing, she felt hot despite the night's coldness. She couldn't part her eyes from his.

They breathed. Jaime opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Brienne's eyes flickered to his lips, to his jaw tensing and relaxing again, to his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, to his lips, to his eyes. To his lips.

She bent forward and kissed him.

Slowly, hesitantly.   
Jaime's breath hitched.   
His lips were warm.   
His hand grabbed hers tighter.  
Then he pulled her down to him.

"Brienne…"   
His eyes searched hers.   
She moved her free hand to his face. Carefully touched his cheek. Followed his cheeckbone with her fingers. Felt his beard under her thumb. Let her index finger map the wrinkles around his eyes. Stroked his forehead with her fingertips. Caressed his lips before she cautiously kissed him again.

Jaime reacted nearly instantly, drew her even closer. Their kissing changed from tender to demanding, from sweet to forceful. Brienne felt aflame. Her whole being was in her mouth, in the hand Jaime still held in his, in her breasts, in her stomach, in the place between her legs. Jaime was strong, but she was, too. Their legs intertwined in need for contact, their hands pulled closer and searched for entries into their clothes, exploring, touching, feeling. This might be their last night. She had never dared to think about this, about anything like this. To hope for it. Last of all with Jaime. Mostly with Jaime. Would it matter? If no one had wanted to marry her even before, would this matter? She was a woman. Jaime - did he really want this? Want her? Why would he want her? How could he, ever? She was ugly. She knew she was ugly. Her mouth on his felt awkward. Her shoulder was bulky and unwomanly under his grip. Her hand was lost on his chest. She tentatively moved her thumb up and down. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Jaime parted his lips from hers.  
"Brienne…"   
She opened her eyes.  
"Brienne."  
Jaime smiled at her, but his eyes were sad.  
"Don't."  
Rejection hit her like a fist in her stomach. She tried to untangle her legs from Jaime's to get away, to cry, to get a clear head, to try to understand what had just happened, but he held her close.  
"Don't."  
Sobs rushed through her, bubbling out like hiccups. She fought to get away, but he wouldn't let her.  
"Brienne. Look at me."   
She tried to breathe, but sobs kept shaking her.  
"Brienne!"  
She finally followed his plea.  
His gaze was set on her intently, his voice was earnest, urgent.  
"Brienne. I want you. But not like this. You should be sure. I want you to be sure. You're the heir to Tarth. And I…" He closed his eyes, inhaled, opened them again. "…am the Kingslayer."   
Swallowing, he continued.   
"I understand if you don't… I might die, and not be able to…"   
He turned his head away. This time it was him, trying to untangle from her hold.  
"Brienne, you are the most honorable person I ever met. I shouldn't have… I apologize for having lost control."  
Brienne looked at him, dumbfounded, but didn't let him go.  
"Jaime…"   
Their eyes met.  
Hurt, confused. Searching. Probing.

The fire crackled.  
Snow was falling down on them.  
  
Finally, Brienne nodded.   
"Let's talk about this after the war's done."  
"If we survive." Jaime's voice was hoarse.  
"If we survive", Brienne answered silently.   
With a last squeeze of his fingers she removed her hand from his, got up and returned to the fire, resuming her watch.


	9. Epilogue - Old Gods and the New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _„The Seven Gods who made us all,_   
>  _are listening if we should call._   
>  _So close your eyes, you shall not fall,_   
>  _they see you, little children._   
>  _Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,_   
>  _they see you, little children.“_
> 
>  
> 
> (The Song of the Seven - ASOS, Samwell III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A journey ends. 
> 
> Thank you Chiara for having been at my side through ups and downs, joy and doubt. 
> 
> For D.

"Do you believe in the Seven?" she asked, nervous in the face of the approaching battle.

Jaime turned towards her, looked at her silently.  
"No", he finally answered.

"I do."

 

* * *

 

A last exchange of glances, a last breath, a last resignated smile of acknowledgement, a last touching of hands - then hell broke lose.

Nothing had prepared her for this. No description had ever come close to this.  
There was no time for strategy. There was no time to think.  
It was slashing, slaying, hacking, thrusting, stabbing. Trying to survive with each breath. Wight for wight for wight for wight for wight…

There was no air. There was no room. She was unable to see anything but rotting corpses, throwing themselves at her.

Jaime at her side. Jaime always at her side. Protecting her left as she tried to keep his right clear. Their swords blurs to her eyes. Fighting by instinct. Moves, patterns, sequences done a thousand times.

She stumbled, nearly fell, caught herself. Jaime's roar. A shattering corpse above her. More wights.

No time to notice her throbbing left arm. No time for worrying. No time to get tired. No time to breathe.

"Breathe", Jaime had said. A long, long time ago.

No time to think of that.

Wights, endless amounts of wights.  
If they weren't successful they'd end up being additions to their army.  
If he died, she'd need to die, too. She wouldn't be able to fight his body. She couldn't.

Jaime and her moved through the masses of attackers, slowly, oh so slowly. Would there be an end? Could there?

They hadn't held each other, they hadn't said goodbye. What if this was the end?

Her chest burned, breath came as a cough, her body revolted, no time for a pause, no halt, no time for a break.

Breaking. What if she broke? Just down. Onto the ground. What if she became one of the many twice-dead bodies Jaime and her walked on, trying not to stumble, happy for the wights' screeches, to not hear the crushing of the once human bones beneath their feet.

If he got wounded, she wouldn't be able to hear it.

No time to care, no time to worry.

Wielding his sword in endless circles, back to back with Jaime now, feeling his movements become less powerful, slowing down, like her own.

Jaime.

Jaime.

Jaime.

His name a rhythm in her heart, accompanying each beat.  
No time to think, no time to feel.

Hoping he'd be alright.

No time to check on him, but she could still sense him fight at her back.

Slashing. Stabbing. Hacking. How many were there? How many more would come?

"Brienne?"

His voice a shock to her, alerting her senses anew.  
"Jaime? Are you alright?"

She was bewildered to hear him chuckle.

"Close enough. Needed to hear your voice."

She missed a beat, fending off a wight only at the very last moment.

"Jaime…"

No time to talk, no time to breathe, no time to yearn.

"Breathe", he had said, and pressed her body close to his.

Hacking, slashing, thrusting for all eternity.  
Not thinking about Jaime. Not remembering his breath on her skin, his lips on hers.

Until the endless flow ebbed away. Until she thought to be deaf for the lack of noises. Until she realized her whole body ached with exhaustion and would collapse any minute.

Time to breathe. Time to think. Time to worry.

She couldn't sense him anymore.

Jaime. Jaime. Jaime.  
Her heartbeat quickening with growing fear.

Maybe she had the strength to move. Maybe she had the strength to turn.  
To turn and see.

She did.

 

* * *

 

He was there. He was breathing.  
He lived.  
He lived!

A wave of relief rushed through her.

Her legs gave in. She sank to the ground, thrusting his sword into the earth to stabilize herself, managing to keep one foot standing.

"Jaime…" she whispered.

He turned to her, his face grey, skin and clothes clotted with mud and grime and blood. His eyes lit up seeing her.

"Brienne…"  
His words were barely audible.

She looked him over as he did with her, searching for wounds, searching for any sign of pain in the other.

"We survived."

"For now."  
"For now."  
  
"Jaime…" Brienne hesitated.  
Then she continued speaking.  
"My life for yours, my lord. From this day on, I am your shield, I swear it by the old gods and the new."  
She smiled sadly. "I am yours."

"Brienne…" He looked nearly desperate. "That's not…"

Before she could react he grasped her hand, nearly breaking her fragile balance, and heaved himself into a position mirroring hers.  
Letting go of her he picked up Oathkeeper and rammed its blade into the ground.  
Then he took her hand again.

"Father, Smith" he spoke slowly, looking at her intently, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her to join his words.  
Brienne's heart hammered against her chest, he couldn't… He couldn't… mean that.

"Warrior, Mother, Maiden…"  
Jaime stopped, swore, took a deep breath.

His tone was challenging her to react, to stop him, when he started speaking a different vow.  
"I am yours, my lady. I will shield your back and give my life for yours, if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

Still keeping her gaze he added the traditional reply to her vow.  
"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

Tears welled up into Brienne's eyes when she repeated his words to him.

"Jaime…" she started to say, but he shook his head, gripping her hand even tighter.  
"Brienne, would you now, please, speak the words with me!"

She stared at him, doubt and worry and pain and hope tugging at her heart, when he bent forward and kissed her, determined, powerful, breathtaking.

Brienne was flushed red when he let go of her, trying to gain back control of her breath, of her racing heart.

"I will apologize and leave you alone in case you don't… But you gave me reason to believe…"  
His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed him.

Her heart took a leap. Brienne straightened her back and nodded.  
"I do."

She did.  
And everything about him, the new vigor in his pose, the warmth of his hand, the sparkle in his eyes, told her that he might, too.

 

* * *

 

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger" they spoke in unison, kneeling across each other, left hands intertwined, right arms rested on their swords' crossguards, smiling at each other in momentary happiness.  
"I am yours and you are mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

Even if the end could come soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been written over the course of nearly a year. A lot changed in that time. Among other things my willingness to write angst. I am sorry to everyone who came here for that. This story promised angst from the very beginning, it continued keeping that promise dangling in front of everyone's noses, and in the end I refused to deliver. 
> 
> Please accept my apologies. And, if you ever should reread, stop after the second paragraph, at _"She did"_.


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